A Fly on the Wall
by Inconsequential
Summary: A tale of the inner workings of a neglected player in Tolkien's history. Who is Gollum and where did he really come from? *COMPLETE*
1. Prologue

**Prologue**  
Sometimes, you don't mean anything. Not in the greater sense, at least. Oh, you tell yourself we all have a role in history, even the tiniest fly.  
  
But then you realize that even if a fly changes history, it's still a fly. A fly on the wall, among giants. And who wants to be that fly?   
  
What if you had no other choice?  
  
I had a choice. I could have walked home, that day. I could have. But the wormhole was sucking me in, and I mean that literally.  
  
A once-in-a-lifetime chance. It was, I can promise you that. It's not like I' m going anywhere now, in any case. No, this adventure is over. And only you are left to hear my tale.  
  
Listen carefully, I don't want to say this twice. I can't say this twice.  
  
But you are here, and listening, so I'll say it once. This is my tale, the tale of a fly on the wall of giants.  
  
  
**  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.


	2. And So It Began

**And So It Began**  
  
An ordinary day, not that any of my days have been ordinary. I lived in a world of my own, they all said, though at the time it wasn't strictly true. Close enough, I suppose.  
  
I dreamed of escape. You can understand that, can't you? I was young, I was foolish, I only saw the dirty pavement stretching before my feet. I found escape in reading, for a time, until the pressure in my head grew to unbearable, and my mind shrieked and whimpered in its confinement. Then, the television, flickering in the background as I read. Fast, fast, devouring pages like an alcoholic drinks while my ears drank in the sounds of gunshots and the fuzzy voices of soap opera actors.  
  
Then came my computer, and I would read seated before the monitor, the television going in the background. It pulsed like a kind of ghost, two-dimensional outlines of people projected faintly into my room.  
  
Oh, no, I didn't want real friends. You ought to know that, yes. Mundane, awkward, a world apart from me. A world apart.  
  
I did go to school. It was a way to feed my brain, full of Shakespeare, chemistry and algebra, devouring knowledge to drown the heart and soul.  
  
But the heart is really everything, you know? Of course, I didn't want to know that at the time. Strictly business, life was. Formulas and equations, a heavy brain in a burdened body, no room left over for an empty heart. Emotion like a sickness, shoved deep into the back of an ever-tightened throat.  
  
I found Tolkien about then. It helped that the movies came out a few years later, easier to understand that way. His characters seemed cumbered by their emotions and their needs, and reading the books again and again brought me smug satisfaction that I was the perfect being. No hindering heart to bring down the power of a mind.  
  
Silly, wasn't I? You may laugh, now. I can see your round face, it is sparkling with laughter. What's there to sorrow over, after all? Nothing, that's what. There we are, then. Hush, and listen.  
  
Where was I? Ah, that day. I was walking home from school through the park, tempting the fates, I know. Nothing ever happened, though. Sometimes I wanted to be caught, mugged, cut with a rusty knife. Anything to wring tears out of my dry and withering insides. I didn't cry when the Towers were bombed-- others' suffering, it was. I only cried in the solitude and darkness of my room, and not over anything substantial. A blank nothingness.  
  
Like that hole I found in the park. Hard to recognize unless you were looking down, and I always was.   
  
It opened at my feet, and it was like looking into a dizzying pool, at first. Like a reflection, trees stood sideways and rippled, but they were not the trees behind me. Elm and poplar, these were, not my native oak, and somewhere in the background I heard voices, fragile and high, like a bad radio transmission. A powerful wind was coming off the hole, and I'd like to think it drew me in, but in truth it was nothing but my own folly. My own wish.  
  
And so it began.  
  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.


	3. The Stoor

**The Stoor**  
  
It was a beautiful place, really. I fit in well enough in the beginning, though I was restless. I made friends, and while the boys at home always teased me for being small, here I was accepted. They were all Hobbits, it seemed, and I was one of them.  
  
I got married, I can' t remember her name, now, but we were happy for a time. I had a friend, we would go fishing together, and talk. Enough things to do at one time, and I was content.  
  
I stopped growing while I was there, too, even though I was only a boy of thirteen, and a puny one at that, when I left my old world. Here it seemed I was a full-grown adult. They called me Sméagol.  
  
In any case, we were fishing one day, and Déagol found my birthday present.  
  
A silly name for a precious, I know. Hush, now, and listen. We are only trying to tell our tale.  
  
He tried to keep my present from me, and I killed him. He deserved it, and he had truly meant nothing to me, only another filler for the blank space that was my life and my thoughts.  
  
You, now, you are more than that. Of course. You know that.  
  
Shall I continue? Good.  
  
I ran away from that place, where I had been living for some years at that point. Ran away, just like that.  
  
I found a cave. It was very nice, really, and I was never bored there. Fish to catch, true, but I had finally found it, what I had needed to fill the emptiness of my soul. In the darkness, my precious was all, my light, my life. My heart, finally filled.  
  
You know.  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.


	4. The Caves

**The Caves  
  
**I lingered there, I do not know for how long.  
  
In my old world, there never seemed enough time in the day, you know? Now I had a surfeit of time, and the best way to spend it.  
  
Invisible. To be invisible, my greatest dream. To be invisible, and all the time in the world to enjoy it-- I grew into something else, some form of super-being. I could see in the dark, move quick as a frog, and think quicker. And best of all, my precious.  
  
You know.  
  
Until one day my precious was lost, slipped off my finger as I strangled a goblin-imp. I loved the squeak of them. Stupid, blind creatures, nothing like me. Like the hamsters we used to keep in my school, long ago. They squeaked too, and the teacher wouldn't let me touch them anymore.  
  
I'll show her. I did show her. I lived many lifetimes! But when my precious was lost I could feel the strength drain from my limbs. My precious, gone! I must have known, in the back of my mind, that the Hobbit took it. I had read of this, long ago, but through the ages my head had grown foggy. No need to dwell on the past, once I found my precious, eh?  
  
The Hobbit came into my cave, he was lost, too, and he wanted to riddle with us. We knew the answers, of course.  
  
I had read them.  
  
But the last one, that confounded me. Lost in the darkness, too much of my memory had been leached away, and I could not answer. Until I remembered what I had read. He had the precious! Bilbo Baggins had it! In his pocket!  
  
We would have rent his flesh, plump Hobbit-meat, and had a good meal, but he put on the precious and was gone. And for many years I was left alone in that cave, and my mind was restless again. Restless, and searching, so after who knows how long I went out into the world, with one yearning only: the precious.  
  
You know.  
  
But I was taken! Taken by Elves, taken whilst I was wandering the borders of their wood. It was because the light was strange to me, that is all. And I did manage to escape, in the end, up a tree and away. Oh, if they could have seen me then, those boys! Teased, they did, when we couldn't climb as high.  
  
I showed them. I showed everyone.  
  
But then I was taken again, by the other side, and it was not pleasant. They tortured us, and they wanted our precious. I had to tell them where precious was. I am sorry, but precious did not want to stay with the stupid Hobbit! No, I would come to get precious.  
  
I escaped from that place, the dark tower. I don't mind the dark, usually, but this was a particularly foul kind. I came to the place of the Elves, and the bright light hurt my eyes.  
  
You knew I was there, didn't you? No one else did, but I knew where they were. I had read about it long ago, and so I followed when they set out.  
  
Oh, I couldn't take precious right away, too many big people with bright eyes and blades guarding it, and the Hobbit that carried it. So I followed at a distance, my breath hissing as I bounded along behind them. I took care never to stir a leaf, and I was always drawn on by the precious, calling to me.  
  
You know.  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me


	5. Traveling

**Traveling  
  
**It was a long journey, but I was pulled, drawn on by the precious. My heart, my soul. I kept my eyes fixed, now, not on the ground but on the travelers I followed.  
  
I think the Wizard suspected I was there. I think the Elf did, too. No matter, I could outsmart both of them. Yes, we could outsmart them all.  
  
I could have taken the precious while they all slept but for the fattest Hobbit. He was watchful. Always looking about with bright suspicious eyes, but he never saw us. Never got a whiff or a glance of us, did he precious? Not a glance.  
  
They went up a mountain, and the snow stung my flesh. I wasn't used to such snow, and I had long since forgotten about clothes. What use for them had I? All my modesty was useless, I could move anywhere unseen. Anywhere.  
  
Even into the Mines of Moria. I snuck in behind them, after the Watcher had pulled the entrance down. They could not get out, but I could get in. Oh yes, precious. I could get in. Squirming through the fallen rocks was no problem, a neat trick, easy does it.  
  
_Look, Mom, no hands!_ A cry from my childhood I well remember, but I am bigger than that now, better than them all.  
  
Inside the Mines it was dark, and I liked it. Not much to eat, but we don't need much, we just need the precious. We almost got it, in the dark, but the Wizard stayed guard. He heard me muttering to myself, calling the precious.  
  
You know.  
  
It was a mistake and he paid for it. It was I who awoke the Balrog. What, don't you believe me? Of course you do. Of course.  
  
So the Wizard was dragged into depthless shadow and I was glad. Glad, for the precious sang to me just a little closer, a lick and a tearing of flesh away. Eight more, eight more of them left.  
  
I followed them out of the Mines, at a distance. They came to the Golden Wood, and I came too. She didn't notice me, the Witch Queen. Not a hair of me she saw, for all her power. I am better than her. Better than them all, precious.  
  
They lingered in that wood for a time and then set out, and I came too, floating on a dead log down the river behind them. Stayed well out of sight, watching, I did. I was ready to take the precious, but I did not. Why? I do not know. I was waiting for something.  
  
My chance at changing history. You are here, with me.  
  
  
You know.   
  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.


	6. Guiding

**Guiding**  
  
The two Hobbits, the one with the ring and the other one, his friend, left. They were going to Mordor, and I knew they were trying to destroy the precious.  
  
You didn't know I knew?  
  
Don't worry, I knew. I always knew, I read it. I knew everything. This whole world, and I was the only smart one! The best, the cleverest, we were, but we were missing our heart. Our precious.  
  
If we had had it, precious, we would never have been caught by the nasty Hobbits, and tied around the leg, like a beast. I wailed, I cried, precious, but they did not let us go. The older one, the one with the precious, took pity on us finally. I may never have had many friends, but I knew how to deal with them. This one reminded us of Déagol, a little, or Teacher from the other world. He also wouldn't let us squeeze the little creatures we ate, but I liked him. He made us feel safe, and he had our heart.  
  
My precious.  
  
So that is why I didn't leave him. He was a good master, for a time, but he betrayed us. They all do, in the end. It is always best to stay alone, and we could do it if we only had our heart, our precious. My heart, my precious.  
  
You know.  
  
So we took the Hobbits to Her. We had met Her, before, and we knew we could control Her. We were better than She was, always better, and She never tried to eat us. Instead, we gave Her other food.  
  
But this food was tough, and the Hobbits didn't die. The cursed fat one defeated Her, and they got away, and left us. They took our heart, our precious, and we were left alone. All alone, in the darkness again.  
  
So we waited, for a time, waited while the Hobbits were taken into the orc-barracks, waited  
while they escaped. Oh, we knew they would escape, precious. Didn't I tell you I knew everything? Well, I did. I knew it all, when no one else did! And I thought knowledge was the key to my heart.  
  
Well, it was in the end.  
  
You know that, though.  
  
We found the Hobbits again on the peak of Mount Doom, where we knew they would be. And the older one, the one with the precious, could not throw it in. He put it on, but we were expecting it, and we bit the precious off his finger. We got our heart back at last. Got the finger, too.  
  
But then we fell towards endless fire, and so it ends.  
  
Falling.  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue  
  
**And so ends the tale of the fly. I changed history, though I did not know I was doing so when I set out. Isn't it funny, how much we don't know about ourselves? All I knew was the emptiness inside me, filled by the precious. A heartless boy in a heartless world, until I found you.  
  
And now we're falling, precious, you and I. I'm glad you heard my story, now I have you at last.   
  
I have you at last, and I don't know why it took me this long to find you. My precious. My heart. **  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer:** Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.


End file.
